Larry Dotter and the Dense Guinea Pig
by Nemesis Of The Nutmeg
Summary: Are you someone looking at harry potter parodys that likes teasing chavs and hates henry hoovers? Then you need to read and review this story... Be warned: flames and flamers will be slapped!


Larry Dotter and the Dense Guinea Pig

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the original characters from Harry Potter. If we did, we'd be rich and famous and wouldn't be on this site. Well… Maybe we would… This site is cool! I'm only saying this because I have a gun to my head BOOM! There goes my head!

Mr and Mrs Bursly, of number 4, Public Drive Thru, were proud to say that they were perfectly … how should I put this… Stupid! They were normally the only people in the neighbourhood of Bad Singing to be involved in anything strange or mysterious.

Vermin Bursly was the complete underdog of a company called Bummings, which made, surprisingly, plant pots. He was a small and thin man, which usually makes you think of brainy nerds. But no, he was thick.

He did have a long, long neck though, which came in very useful in his work. To be exact, his job was to look into deep plant pots to check for spiders and cracks, among other things.

Mrs Bursly, otherwise known as Daffodil, was fat, had no hair at all and had hardly any neck. Her hair loss was due to an accident with a lawnmower. In case you're wondering how anyone with any common sense has an accident with a lawnmower, just cast your mind back to the first few lines, where it clearly states that Mr and Mrs Bursly are both incredibly _stupid_. They have no common sense _at all_! The Burslys had a large, overweight son called Cuddly, and in their opinion there was no cuddlier boy anywhere.

The Burslys had, well, not much really, they had a big secret, and their greatest worry (if thick people have the brain power to worry) was that someone would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Dotters! Mrs Dotter her first name being Silly was in fact Mrs Burslys adopted unloved sister, but they hadn't met in twenty years. In fact, she hated so much she had even sent her death mail… to the wrong address. Much to her surprise, she got some back. Frankly she pretended she didn't have a sister, though it isn't really that hard when you have the attention span and memory of a goldfish in Guinness. Because her sister and her good for nearly everything husband were as unburslyish as possible, they were rich and clever! The Burslys also knew they had a small son but they had never seen him. The boy was another good reason for keeping then Dotters away.

Mr Bursly on this particular day, got up and went to fetch the post, stupidly not realising daffodil, his wife, had already got it, despite the fact it was staring him in the face (that's the post, not Daffodil).

"Bill… Bill… Bill… Ooohh! Llib!"

After breakfast, which was the leftovers of last night's Chinese **TAKEAWAY**, the Burslys went upstairs to get dressed.

"That Chinese you cooked was nice dear." Grunted Vermin.

"Thank you dear," replied Daffodil, looking absent-mindedly (seeing as it didn't exist) out of the window of their bedroom- which, by the way, was covered by fake Burberry… yes, they were Chavs- not noticing the SAS observation team and Challenger 2 tank parked outside the drive. Their car, a little red Nova, with a spoiler, blue neon lights, a double speaker stereo system and Burberry seat and steering wheel covers, was about to be crushed by the Challenger 2.

"Come on, let me shoot 'em, they're Chavs, please, pretty please! I'll do anything!" Pleaded the SAS private.

"No! I know they're Chavs, and I want to shoot them too, but the Henry Hoover told us not too… You don't want to mess with the Hoover!" The Private raised his eyebrows. "What! That thing is a killing machine! With the sucky thingy and the little shifty eyes…" A small Henry Hoover suddenly floated by. The Private rolled his eyes, put it down to the Marijuana he'd been smoking, and reloaded his gun. That's right, the SAS is useless… and will be forever… and ever… and ever…but someday they might pull their finger out and do something useful - unlikely I know but you got to have faith, and come on they look pretty cool.

Vermin looked out of the window and noticed the floating Hoover.

"What strange birds we have around here, ya know what I'm sayin'?" He drawled.

"What does it look like? Is it mingin'?" Asked Daffodil, staring at their poster of Ali G, who they prayed to every day.

"It's small, red, black face, long sucky thingy and it has really shifty eyes." Mr Bursly said.

"Probably a CHAVinch." (See what we did there? See! We do have a sense of humour! By the way, I just slapped the other author. It was his lame idea of CHAVinch. It's not lame honest that took me hours to think of honest it's really good-Other Author. slap A Bomb )

Daffodil skipped downstairs, randomly knocking down ornaments and rapping as she went.

"Wot up?" Gurgled Cuddly.

"That's right sweetums!" She cooed, cuddling him and suffocating the boy in her huge layers of fat. Vermin didn't notice as he jumped down the stairs and cut his head open.

"Ooooh ketchup!"

Three hours later Vermin woke up, twirled around a couple of times and walked out the door like nothing had happened. People stopped and stared at the man walking down the street with blood on his head and doodles all over his face, courtesy of Cuddly. However, after partially getting over the concussion, he realised his car was parked twenty minutes behind him, back at his house. So, he set off back to his house, not noticing various S.A.S teams following him disguised as bushes, trees and oversized squirrels with radars sticking out of their heads.

Sadly, by the time he got back home- that's Mr Bursly, not some random bloke- it was almost midnight as he had repeatedly passed out from blood loss. Plus, his car had been crushed by the tank, as the driver had felt sorry for the Keved up car and put it out of its misery.

Random men ran up to him begging to clean his shoes as cover for special agent Sam Fisher, who's mission it was to deliver letters under cover of broad daylight. Sadly, it was now midnight, so he had quite obviously failed. But he carried on anyway.

"I must not be seen or Lambert's going to put me in rehab again! Apparently I'm out of my mind"

"Hello random letter man!"

"No! Not rehab!"

"What?"

" You didn't see me! I must deliver this letter for the wiz… I mean nutmegs. Some dude named Mouldywart O'd and died. I'm just telling you this for the plot, you see? The authors are lazy. Don't tell them you saw me."

"See who?"

"Exactly."

"No, really, I can't see you."

"Exactly."

"The blood loss is affecting my sight! Go away you purple elephant!"

Special mailman Fisher backed away slowly from the man who was raving about elephants and continued on his way.

Again, Vermin passed out from blood loss, watched by a Henry Hoover reading 'Woman's weekly'. Despite it's shifty eyes, which actually makes it really hard to read.

After dismissing the totally inept S.A.S force, Professor McEggnogg mutated into a human (My Hoover did that! It never said anything about that in the manual! Damn Henry's!) with bright red hair, big googly glasses that muttered 'should have gone to specsavers©' every two and a half minutes, and… DUN DUN DUN! Shifty Eyes!

Ahem… Anyway, much to her relief, at that exact moment in time, a 3 foot 9 man appeared in a puff of pink, fluffy smoke. McEggnogg rolled her eyes and wondered why this guy _still_ hadn't bought any clothes

"Minerva, darling! It's absolutely wonderful to see you!"

"Aroused, can't you buy any clothes?"

"Now dearest, you know I can't afford any! It might start a fashion trend, anyway!"

"I highly doubt it."

"Oh, you are a scream!" Chortled Aroused.

"Should have gone to Specsavers ©."

"Eh?"

"Glasses." Replied Minerva.

"Riiighht. I'm sure there's a spell for that."

"Aroused, if I let you loose on my glasses they'd yell 'I'm so sexy' every five seconds."

Aroused was saved from responding when a high speed pram shot down the road at that exact instant, followed by an overweight midget on a skateboard dragging a five tonne bottle of vodka.

"No! The boy!" Yelled Shagrid, letting go of his Vodka and rolling away. "But the vodka!" He jumped off his skateboard and hugged it. "But the boy! But the vodka! Ok, that's it, you… you're coming with me!" He began dragging the vodka down the street after the pram, which, travelling at over 100mph, was now about 10 miles away. ……………………….

To be continued… If we can be bothered.

Well? Like it? Hate it? Lick it? Poke it? Made you ill? Caused you to start yelling about the power of Specsavers©? Snog it? Piss on it? (Please don't) Review, flame, whatever.


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